The Thunder Chicken
by CarverEdlundtheLast
Summary: When Dean decides to celebrate Thanksgiving while John is away on a case, Sam gets dragged along, and it becomes a memorable Winchester holiday, to say the least. Wee!Chesters


**A/N: In a short lull in all the chaos before Thanksgiving dinner, my sister and I thought it'd be cute to make a little Wee!Chesters Thanksgiving one-shot (Sam's thirteen and Dean's seventeen).** **Almost all of these baking fails are based off of real life experiences, and not recommended. Especially the yogurt. Do not try at home… You'll see what we mean.**

 **Disclaimer: Unfortunately, owning Supernatural is not one of the things we have to be thankful for. :)**

* * *

Nancy Griffens looked around the room in dismay. Or, rather, what was left of the room. The kitchen had taken the brunt of the damage. The microwave door was wide open, and upon further inspection seemed to be coated in some kind of glue. There was a dusting of flour on almost every surface in the kitchen, and it appeared that there had been a small fire next to the window. Something on the ground crunched beneath her feet with every step.

The oven had been left on and the door to it was several feet away, smoking slightly on the carpet. A charred match lay next to the stove, which wasn't a good sign. There was a pool of what was either blood or cranberry sauce dripping off the corner of the counter, and the refrigerator door was partially open, probably due to the fact that there was a thirty pound turkey jammed into it. Uncooked, of course.

Nancy hated being the maid.

 **. . .**

 _Twelve Hours Earlier_

Sam woke up to some eighties song being blasted so loudly that it was unidentifiable. Dean, of course, knew it to be Journey's "Separate Ways," and was singing along at an equally alarming volume. Sam, who was by then quite used to this type of behavior from his brother, responded by pulling a pillow over his head. That particular move did not turn out to be in his favor, for Dean yanked the pillow away from his brother, swatting at Sam's head. Dean then proceeded to whack his brother repeatedly until he stumbled out of bed, throwing the alarm clock that had been resting on the nightstand at his attacker. Dean dodged the projectile, not even missing a line in the song.

"Morning, Sammy!"

Sam glared at his brother, earning a pillow to the face. In his attempt to dodge it, he narrowly avoided tripping over the bedpost, and his glare only intensified. Dean just grinned. "Come on Sammy, we're going shopping."

Sam gave him a puzzled look. "What for?"

Dean gave a wicked grin. "We're gonna find ourselves a thunder chicken."

 **. . .**

 _Eleven Hours Earlier_

By the time they arrived at the store, Dean had successfully explained to Sam that a thunder chicken was, indeed, a turkey. There was a surprising amount of people buying groceries, considering it was Thanksgiving morning.

Between the two of them, they had managed to find most of the needed supplies, and were left with only the task of locating Dean's "thunder chicken". As it turned out, that was much easier said than done. There were only three turkeys left in the grocery store, all frozen and appropriately named Mo, Larry, and Curly by Dean. Unfortunately, each of the turkeys weighed more than 25 pounds, and the brothers didn't even know how to cook a chicken. They eventually decided on Dean's least favorite of the three, the unfortunate Mo. It was then that it occurred to them exactly how much a thirty pound turkey would cost.

Dean looked at the price, expression changing to express how annoyed he was. Sam glanced over his shoulder. "Dean, it costs over 40 dollars! Do you even have that much money?"

Dean smirked. "No, but you do."

"Actually, I don't. I kinda assumed that 'cause you literally dragged me to the store, you know, you might be paying!" Sam shook his head. "You know what, we can just put it back. I bet we can find a smaller turkey somewhere, it'll just take a little longer."

Dean eyed the turkey in question. "Nah, it won't have time to cook if we wait. You know we could just-"

He was cut off by his brother, who understood exactly what he was suggesting. "Dean, no way! We can't- I'm not gonna help you steal a turkey!"

Dean glanced at the security cameras. "Heck yeah, you are. Come on, you bring everything else to the checkout, but be problematic, you know, and I'll take the turkey and run."

"Dean, no-"

He let the sentence hang, watching as his brother sprinted away, turkey in arms.

 **. . .**

 _Nine Hours Earlier_

Sam couldn't believe they had outrun the police officer. Sure, it seemed like the guy was getting up there in years, but they weren't exactly traveling light, each a walking Thanksgiving dinner.

One way or another, they had managed to get away, and now found themselves facing the task of cooking a now slightly battered thirty pound turkey in an oven that probably wouldn't even fit an abnormally large chicken.

"Dean, how do you get this oven to stay open?" Sam called in frustration. Each of his attempts to keep the door from slamming had proven to be ineffective.

Dean smirked. "Aw, Sammy, I shouldn't have to show you how to use an oven. How to steal a turkey, maybe, but how to use an oven?"

Sam just made a face, moving out of the way as his brother swaggered over. Dean stepped forward, pulling open the oven door exactly as Sam had been before, frowning as it slammed shut. As several more trials proved to be just as ineffective, Dean swore loudly. "Freakin' thing is possessed," he muttered, opening it again. This time, while it was still open, he attempted to use his foot to prevent it from closing. Dean gave the door a hard kick, putting almost his full weight on it. As was the intention, the oven didn't close. Instead, the entire door broke off, landing on the ground with a squeal of hinges and a thud. Dean froze, making a face at the effect and covering it with fake laughter. "See, Sammy, that's not closing any time soon."

Sam assessed the damage. "Dean," he said calmly,"Dad's going to kill you."

Dean smirked. "Not if he doesn't know it was me."

Sam shook his head. "Jerk."

"Turkey!"

Sam blinked. "What?"

"The turkey's frozen, there's not gonna be enough time to cook it."

Sam gave him a panicked look. "But we can't use the oven!"

"Uhhh... here!" Dean exclaimed, opening the fridge. "Stuff it in here for now,"

Sam made a face, but obeyed. He glanced at his brother. "At least you didn't break off the refrigerator door, too," he muttered.

"Shut up."

Sam sighed, shaking his head. "Let's start with something else, then, as long as our turkey's... indisposed."

Dean glanced at his brother. "Jeez, you're making it sound like we killed someone."

Sam shrugged. "We kinda killed Thanksgiving."

"Nah, we improved it. Quit whining and gimme a little help with the pie."

They got to work, however soon discovered that there was a bit more to making pumpkin pie than a can of pumpkin. Unfortunately, they had no prior knowledge of this, and hadn't bought everything apparently needed for pie. Dean was livid, to put it lightly.

"Dude, how can we not have pie? It's Thanksgiving! It's practically the national pie-eating holiday!"

"Well, it's not like we can walk back into the mini-mart we just stole from," Sam pointed out.

Dean glared. "But, dude, it's pie."

"Well, unless you wanna try making pumpkin pie without crust, I suggest we find something else to make," Sam said, with a pointed look at Dean.

Dean searched for another valid argument. "Well, we bought, like, three cans of pumpkin. What are we gonna do with them, then?"

Sam shrugged. "Pumpkin muffins?" He suggested.

Dean's glare gave his answer.

 _"Chocolate_ pumpkin muffins?" Sam asked.

"How the heck are we even supposed to make chocolate pumpkin muffins?"

"Maybe use a recipe," Sam suggested sarcastically.

"Gee, thanks, I never would have guessed. But, if you don't mind my asking, where are we supposed to get the recipe?"

Sam grinned. He held up a small book. "How about this?"

"So you were fine with stealing a recipe book, but didn't even wanna try stealing a turkey?"

Sam shook his head, looking at the recipe. "Do we have any yogurt?"

They eventually managed to gather most of the needed ingredients, with a couple of creative substitutions. They made it about halfway through the recipe before things started to go wrong. The aforementioned unfortunate occurrences began when Sam measured the yogurt, which had miraculously been found just a couple of days past its expiration date in the fridge... Behind the turkey. That was fine at the time; however, seeing as the brothers were using the same glass in substitution for a measuring cup, things went bad quickly. Apparently, putting yogurt in the microwave - even a tiny bit - can be disastrous. With the intention of melting butter, Sam had put the glass in the microwave with yogurt left on the edges, which resulted in explosive yogurt and a sticky coating on the microwave. They soon decided to direct their attention towards something else.

After much debate, they decided the cranberry sauce would be the next victimized food. Having opened the can of pumpkin (lacking in a can opener) by repeatedly stabbing it with a screwdriver, Dean went about opening the can of cranberries with a different approach. Before Sam had time to argue, he had a shotgun loaded and aimed at the cranberries on the counter in front of him. After the shot rang out, Sam glanced around nervously, half expecting the police to burst through the door.

"Really, Dean?"

Dean looked up, face splattered with cranberry sauce. "I don't think it worked."

Sam eyed the counter, which was equally sticky. "You think?"

Dean grinned. "Hey, it was worth a shot. Heh heh. Shot, get it?"

Sam shook his head. Dean reached for the bread crumbs. "Dean, we have to clean this up," Sam pointed out.

Dean shrugged. "Dad's gonna kill me, anyway. Might as well take you down, too."

Sam glared at him. Dean attempted to turn on the stove, an old gas stove, only to find that it wouldn't light. "Sammy, get the matches," he called to his brother, who immediately saw where this was going.

Sam shook his head. "Dean, we've wrecked enough already without starting a fire."

"Sam, I know how to work a stove."

Sam glanced at the oven door on the ground. "Well, you also said you knew how to use an oven, and look at where that's gotten us."

"C'mon, Sammy. It's not Thanksgiving without stuffing. And it's not stuffing without bread crumbs and melted butter."

"And it's also not stuffing without a turkey," Sam pointed out.

Dean shrugged. "I'm gonna ignore that tiny detail for now."

Sam shook his head in exasperation. "How are you still alive?"

Dean continued to the matches, digging through a duffel bag and seemingly finally finding them. He held them up to his brother, grinning. He turned the stove back on, and held the lit match up to it. The stove lit, but so did his shirt sleeve. In his panic, not only did Dean manage to light part of the room on fire, but he also managed to scatter bread crumbs throughout the room. Sam solved the problem by grabbing the spray hose from the side of the sink and successfully soaking his brother.

It was around that time that they saw the first cop car.

 **. . .**

 _Present_

John looked at his two boys, trying very hard to hide laughter. He listened to the story in silence, wondering about the state of the motel room. He couldn't say that his first attempt at making Thanksgiving dinner had turned out much better, although he hadn't ended up in jail. Had they really stolen a turkey? In all honesty, what he was most surprised about was that they had actually gotten away with stealing a turkey, and it was the gunshot that had attracted the police.

Dean was covered in cranberry sauce, had a charred sleeve, and was soaking wet. John's youngest had somehow made it out mostly unscathed, although had bread crumbs tangled in his hair. As much as he hated to admit it, they were his boys through and through. John figured that he should probably be a parent and scold them, but it could wait.

As they were leaving, John could have sworn he heard Dean mutter something about a _thunder chicken_.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! It's now actually 10:09 PM, but, hey, it's still Thanksgiving. We'd really appreciate some reviews, just telling us what you thought. And, sadly, quite a few of those things have** **happened to us. You should never trust siblings in a kitchen. :) But we've never stolen a turkey, promise. :) Happy Thanksgiving!**

 **Until the very end,**

 **CarverEdlundtheLast**


End file.
